My First Village Patrol
Village patrol, still before the morning mist had cleared. Standing at the palisade gate and looking into the village, a gravel-paved main road wide enough for a single cart stretched toward the center. From the gate up to a point wide enough for two carts side by side was an empty open space, and beyond that, two-story buildings stood shoulder to shoulder along both sides of the road. Of the two closest to the gate, one was the forge, and the one across the road was the guard post.
I was listening to Knight Roland's explanation in the open space between the one-way-open palisade gate and the guard post, for the farmers heading out to work beyond the village.
"...And so, the village guard totals 20 men. Two gate guards, 12 internal patrolmen, four external patrolmen, and two off-duty. We rotate posts every fortnight."
According to his explanation, the gate guards stood watch at the palisade gate from morning until sunset, recording entries and exits of non-villagers and collecting tolls. The internal patrolmen divided into morning shift, afternoon shift, night watch first shift, and night watch second shift, patrolling the village interior and manning the watchtowers for lookout duty. The external patrolmen went out once a week for three days and two nights, sweeping the main roads outside for monsters, beasts, and bandits. The off-duty ones just lounged and ate for a fortnight, it seemed.
Starting today, as a squire, my role was guard captain—temporary, since I wasn't an adult yet. In peacetime, the guard captain managed and supervised the guards; in emergencies, when orders came down, he conscripted and commanded the peasants. I'd heard the explanation, but since I'd just started the handover, I still didn't know much.
"Today, we'll just do a village patrol. The deputy captain here will explain the details."
Knight Roland finished the basics and promptly dumped the rest on the deputy, heading into the guard post. It was the first time I'd seen him like that. Unlike during knight training, he seemed utterly unmotivated—probably sick of guard duty. Come to think of it, guard captain wasn't a job for a formally appointed knight to handle. This was the frontier where security would collapse without a knight, and since Roland was a low-ranking knight without a manor, it made sense he'd drawn it.
I ignored Roland heading inside and approached the burly deputy waiting nearby.
"Good day, young master. I'm Deputy Guard Captain Philip."
"Pleased to meet you. Gallein Bayfort. So, what should we start with?"
"As Knight Roland instructed, I'll explain internal patrols today and we'll do one together."
His low, rumbling voice carried an intimidating weight. Philip was a massive beastkin—probably bear—with round ears poking up from his head. Dark brown hair, black eyes, and a middle-aged face. He wore leather armor, a large axe wrapped in leather sheathing at his waist, and a round shield strapped to his back with metal bands. His mana felt substantial—not Aura-level, but strong.
Philip excused himself to me and approached the four soldiers gathered by the palisade gate. All in leather armor and iron helmets, each with a long spear and a short arming sword at the waist. Uniform gear, but mismatched styles—no sense of standardization. As the deputy approached, the soldiers who had been chatting broke it up and got back to positions. Two headed to the gate—gate guards, apparently—and the other two were patrolmen.
While Philip gave orders to the patrolmen, I drew closer to the palisade gate. I'd avoided it before to prevent misunderstandings, but curiosity won out. Up close for the first time, the village's palisade gate had a hole in the middle lower section big enough for carts and riders, with thick double wooden doors that swung inward. Iron bands reinforced the edges, upper third, and lower third; small iron rods pierced iron-wood-iron as bolts, riveted shut. Inside each door's upper and lower iron bands had two latches each, so thick horizontal iron bars could lock them shut. At the closing point on the ground was a deeply embedded iron pipe for vertical bars to secure it against pushing. It looked sturdy enough that hacking through the wall beside it with an axe would be faster than breaching the gate.
"Young master, this is Patrol Captain Roger. He'll patrol internals with you today and explain."
"Patrol Captain Roger here."
"Gallein Bayfort. Pleased to meet you."
Roger had dull blonde hair, brown eyes, and a mid-20s face. No horns or animal ears, so probably human—but sometimes traits hid under clothes, so I stopped guessing. Bad habit.
After brief introductions, we started patrolling the main road with the patrolmen. Past the guard post by the gate, through the square, checking the communal mill, oil press, well, then circling the outskirts to inspect the palisade, bastions, and watchtowers. No technical knowledge needed—just confirming nothing was missing, broken, or rotting. If a patrolman spotted an issue, he reported to the patrol captain, who compiled and reported to the deputy. Soldiers didn't fix anything themselves.
Early morning, farmers already out, so the village was quiet—no incidents. They said evenings or when traveling merchants arrived, drunks sometimes caused trouble; guards beat them down lightly, quieted them, and fined them. Too minor for reports.
I asked Roger about organization while moving; it was looser than expected. Patrol captain was like a squad leader back on Earth. Just two under the deputy for 20 total guards—everyone precious. One absence meant suffering for the rest. From the structure, the guard captain had no real duties; deputy handled all management and tasks.
Guard captain's just the muscle, then?
About an hour in, internal patrol ended quicker than expected. Roger left for watchtower shift change. Alone, I stood blankly under the palisade, then headed to the guard post.
On the way back, the quilted gambeson and chainmail over it, iron helmet, and longsword issued yesterday by the butler reeked terribly—used gear. Need to wash it in lye water.
Armor counted as arms; unless my future page handled it after knighthood, I managed it myself—no handing to servants. Lucky it wasn't high-end with leather lining; lye-washable. I'd have boiled it if possible, but linen shrinks in hot water, and wringing risks seam tears. Magic let me dry without hands, so no excuse not to wash.
Lost in laundry thoughts, I reached the guard post. Unlike most wooden village buildings, it sat on a stone foundation. Inside, resting soldiers lounged; some diced at a table.
"Uh—!"
A few noticed me, recognized, and jumped up—the gate guards from earlier, off-shift now. Others followed, standing to salute. Suddenly like a company commander barging into barracks during personal time.
"Sorry, I interrupted. Don't mind me—carry on."
They awkwardly sat at my flustered words. Better to leave quick; I asked the first who spotted me where the deputy was and headed there.
Knock knock.
"May I come in?"
"Yes, enter."
Knocking on the second-floor door with its nameplate, Philip was buried in paperwork at his desk. Sparse room—no furniture but the table. As the real handler with the nominal captain idle, he had a full morning. Felt bad interrupting.
Still, duty called.
"Back from patrol. Patrol Captain Roger went to relieve the watchtower; nothing else for me, so I returned."
"Mm. Patrol done already? No more for today, then."
"They said village patrol isn't my job either. Does the guard captain have nothing to do?"
"No fixed peacetime duties beyond external patrols. Otherwise, principle is to stay at the post daytime, but tell me your whereabouts ahead, and location doesn't matter."
Guard captain was a total plum assignment.